


Playing with Fire

by nutmeg223



Series: Grimm Behavior [5]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Cuddling & Snuggling, Discipline, Domestic, Domestic Discipline, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Monroe cooks, Monroe is a mother hen, Multi, Spanking, teatime with vegetarians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 23:57:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13422348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutmeg223/pseuds/nutmeg223
Summary: One should never, ever even remotely try to shade the truth when one is Sean Renard's Consort.





	1. Just a Little Singed

Nick attempted to shy away from Renard's side, but the infuriating man simply reached over with one long arm and drew him back, gripping the back of his neck.   
  
"Don't even  _think_  about it." Renard growled in his ear.   
  
Nick swallowed on nerves and tried to gauge the man's level of anger. He had, maybe, unconsciously pushed it too far when he'd denied being injured despite the obvious bruises and singeing...and the smoldering jacket. He  _hated_  dealing with damonfeuer; he always wound up singed and sore...and lying to the Captain. Only now it wasn't just lying to the Captain, or lying to the Prince. He was the man's Consort, and he'd tried "freak acetylene torch accident" on him. Renard...Sean, did NOT accept him lying, ever (at least to him, Monroe, or Juliette), or balking at getting checked out.   
  
He let the bigger man steer him up the walk and across the porch to the front door, and dug in his pocket for the key. Despite being in trouble, he still got a little glow that Monroe had given him (okay, all of them) a key for his house. Before he could slot the key into the lock, though, he door swung inward and both men were faced with 6'3" of snarling Blutbad.   
  
"Monroe!" Nick yelped as Monroe yanked him into the house and buried his nose in the crook of his neck. He could feel Monroe sniffing deeply.   
  
Renard followed calmly and took care of locking up. Monroe held Nick close, the shorter man's head tucked under his chin.   
  
"Sorry," Monroe looked at Renard apologetically. "I've been a little on edge since Hank called and let me know you were coming home."   
  
"Nicholas and I need to discuss that, actually." Renard favored Nick with a disapproving Look.   
  
"His room is all the way upstairs. See if you can get him to nap after; you know how he's been sleeping lately."  
  
"Monroe!" Nick's protest was muffled by Monroe's chest.   
  
"What, you expect me to save you from this, man?" Monroe asked, incredulous.   
  
"...maybe?"  
  
"You've been asking for it since we did the Consort thing, Nick. I'm just surprised it took this long."   
  
"Hey!" Nick poked Monroe in the chest.   
  
"Nicholas, stop stalling and get upstairs. You can find a corner and wait in it." Renard ordered.   
  
Nick found himself let loose with a fond pat and faced the Prince.   
  
"I'm not  _six_!" he objected.   
  
"Unless you'd like a preview?" the tone was mild, but the threat was obvious.   
  
Nick turned and fled upstairs; he wasn't quite used to people who wouldn't engage. He could, sometimes, delay Monroe with a few clever and well-placed objections. It never got him out of a spanking, but it delayed the inevitable.   
  
Monroe shook his head and smiled after Nick before moving to his Prince. He took Renard's suit jacket and hung it up.   
  
"He'll probably conk out after, he usually does. Once he's asleep, come down, okay?" Monroe took Renard's cuff-links out of his cuffs and tucked them into the jacket's pockets. "Sit for awhile."  
  
"Will someone else spanking him bother you?" Renard asked, bemused at the personal attention. But, Monroe seemed to enjoy fussing, so he let the Blutbad roll up his sleeves and remove his tie.   
  
"If it was anyone but you, yes. You? No. It's your right." Monroe let himself be pulled into Renard's embrace. He rested his chin on the other man's should for a minute. "Go on and handle things."   
  
Renard waited a little longer, enjoying the feel of Monroe in his arms, before he headed upstairs to deal with his most troublesome Consort. He wasn't looking forward to the next half-hour or so. He topped the stairs, headed into Nick's room, and smiled, watching Nick fidget in the corner. He crossed to the sofa and sat before he called to Nick.   
  
"Nicholas, come here."  
  
Nick stiffened and shifted from foot to foot.   
  
"Now, Nicholas."  
  
He responded to the tone, as always. Renard hooked a finger in one of his belt loops and tugged until Nick stood between his knees.  
  
"I am very disappointed in the choices you made today, Nicholas, and we're going to deal with that, now." Renard unfastened Nick's trousers as he spoke, and yanked them straight down to Nick's knees.   
  
Nick flushed miserably and looked down, guilt finally twisting in his gut. He'd been so focused on damage control, he hadn't thought about what he'd done.   
  
"I took you, Juliette, and Monroe as my Consorts so I could protect all of you. I can't protect you if you're so busy handling the situation that you lie to me. Keeping you as safe as possible and alive are..." Renard paused and took a deep breath. "You have to let me do my job, too, Nicholas. Do you understand?"   
  
Boxers joined pants.   
  
"Yessir," Nick murmured, chastened.   
  
Renard easily turned Nick over one thigh and patted his bottom. He wasted no time in landing the first swat.  
  
Nick gasped; the six he'd gotten previously from Renard had  _nothing_  on being spanked bare by the man, and Renard wasn't holding back. 

Nick shifted and squeaked at the rain of spanks on his upturned backside.   
  
"Why are we here, Nicholas?" Renard asked, spanking slowly.   
  
Nick fought down the unhelpful urge to be a smartass, since it always backfired spectacularly, and answered promptly.  
  
"I broke two of our rules. OW!"   
  
"Which ones?"  
  
Renard took implacable bastard to an entirely new level. He ended every statement of his or Nick's with several stinging smacks.  
  
"OW! I...ow! knowingly and willfully put myself in mortal danger, and I tried to hide it. Ow ow ow!"   
  
"Yes, you did, and you know how I feel about being lied to? Have I made that clear to you?"  
  
The better part of an evening trying to clear the taste of cod liver oil out of his mouth while writing endless lines on the subject had made it pretty clear.   
  
"Yessir!" Nick answered smartly.   
  
"Good, so I don't need to address that again. You lie to me again, and we'll be doing this with a paddle. Now, while we're here, we're also going to discuss the completely inappropriate prank war you and Wu have going. The one I told you in no uncertain terms to end." He landed a hard flurry of swats, taking Nick's pale backside to a glowing pink.   
  
"Ow!" Nick hollered, not one to hold back. "I thought you - ow! - ignored that! OW!"  
  
Renard snorted and spanked steadily for a minute.   
  
"We'll consider this a warning, then, that if you don't knock it off, we'll be doing this every night for a week. I don't put up with disobedience. Understood?"  
  
"OW! Yes sir! Ow ow ow!" Nick kicked involuntarily against the mounting sting.   
  
He hated the part where he started to kick and wiggle against the steady sting layering down over tender skin, always much sooner than he thought he should. He hated being spanked, too, hated being bared and put over someone's knee. But, and it was what truly galled, he also knew he needed it. He didn't really plan so much as react, and he knew it was seriously dangerous, post-Grimming. He allowed, and half the time courted, the attention, because it made him stop and think for five minutes, and it made him rely on someone else. Renard...Sean, and Monroe, and Juliette wouldn't let him go it alone, not entirely. They helped, they backed him up, and they made sure he did what he did in the safest way possible. And really, he'd a sore ass over weeks of twisting guilt.   
  
Renard's hand had gone from stinging to lighting a serious burn in his butt. The man obviously worked out, given that he was hardly winded and it felt like he could go on forever. Nick wiggled and squealed and kicked and cursed, but only in his head. Renard didn't seem to have any problem in corralling his squirming, making sure that every single spank landed exactly where he wanted it. Nick could feel the growing pressure of impending tears in his chest and behind his eyes, and his breathing hitched. The first of many tears tracked down his cheeks as he buried his face in his arms.   
  
"You're too important to recklessly risk your life, Nicholas. I won't allow it in my Consort, and you can count on winding up right here, every single time, I promise you." Renard lectured as he spanked, concentrating on taking Nick's dark pink bottom to a healthy red. "You're too important to me, and to Monroe, and to Juliette. We can't lose you to carelessness."  
  
The first, and truly penitent, sobs broke free as Renard tipped him forward and paddled where he sat, hard. Nick let the tears wash away the last bits of lingering guilt for disappointing a man he respected so much. He wiggled and kicked against the sear and burn, even as he accepted the discipline.   
  
"Sorry! M'sorry!" he wailed, going limp over Renard's lap. "Don't know why...I didn't mean to!"  
  
Renard steeled himself against his Consort's distress and spanked Nick's sit spots and a hand span down each thigh to a deep and painful red. He'd remember every time he sat for a few days, at least. He landed a last dozen, dead center, and stopped, rubbing Nick's back and patting the unspanked portion of his boy's thigh.   
  
Nick shuddered and sobbed, still squirming a little, while Renard rubbed his back with firm, soothing strokes. He felt the bigger man lean down to pull off the jeans and boxers still tangled around one ankle. Nick snuffled into the sofa cushions and slowly quieted, enjoying the petting and the comfort. Eventually, though, Renard helped him up and handed him a handkerchief, going to snag the pajamas Monroe had left at the top of the stairs.   
  
Nick had expected to be left alone, so he stared in shock when Renard simply sat on the sofa again and shook out his pajama bottoms. Nick sighed and stepped in; apparently Renard needed to fuss as much as Monroe. Renard stood then, and whisked off Nick's t-shirt so he could inspect the bruises fanning across his back from the wall. Nick found himself bundled into the long-sleeve tee in minutes, blushing a little as Renard smirked. He'd maybe appropriated the Brown shirt from Monroe. Nick watched as Renard made up a bed on the sofa and held the covers up. Nick slid in on his stomach and almost immediately went boneless toward sleep; he was more tired than he expected.   
  
"Rest now, hmm?" Renard's voice was gentle as he brushed a hand through Nick's hair. "I'll come get you when you're allowed to be up. You haven't been sleeping well again."   
  
Nick smiled sleepily at the man.   
  
"Mmmkay," was about all he could manage. "Love you."   
  
"I...I love you too, brat." He stumbled a little over the words, not quite used to them yet. Nick had, with characteristic chutzpah, elbowed his way into his life and his heart. He'd managed to find what he was missing in his three Consorts.   
  
Renard watched Nick sleep, deeply and hopefully peacefully, before he turned and trudged down the stairs, feeling just as tired as his slumbering Grimm. 


	2. Even the Alpha Needs Looking After

Renard rubbed the back of his neck as he walked downstairs. It had been a ridiculous, busy, and violent week for everyone, and his Consort had borne the brunt of it. It made him twitchier than he liked to admit, and it was probably exhaustion that had prompted Nick's latest bout of insanity. Trying to lie to him, really? Especially with as weak a lie as "freak acetylene torch accident." He bit back a snort; even though Nick couldn't hear him, he didn't want to set a precedent laughing at his more outrageous behavior.   
  
He stopped, three steps up from the bottom of the stairs, and stared at the living room. Monroe had been busy, apparently, since a fire burned merrily in the grate and a teapot stood atop a warmer on the coffee table. He came down the last steps as Monroe bustled in with an all-but-groaning tray.  
  
"Oh, hey. Shoes off." Monroe set the tray on the table.   
  
Renard bristled a bit at the casual order, but did as the Blutbad asked.   
  
"If you want a shower, I put some more comfortable clothes in the one down here for you."   
  
"I...thank you, Monroe. That's very thoughtful." Renard blinked, a little thrown. This thing between them - this Consort to his Prince thing - was fragile and still new (and he really didn't want to screw it up), and they were still on company manners.   
  
He showered quickly, noting that his preferred products were in the shower (and where did Monroe a. find the time and b. find out what he liked?). He surveyed the clothing waiting for him, and he really had so stop being surprised at how much Monroe noticed. The man wasn't an idiot, and he apparently spent a lot of time making his mates comfortable, since he'd put out the clothes Renard wore when he wanted to be most comfortable. The soft, brushed cotton trousers and loose, band-collared shirt were some of his favorites for nights in. He pulled on the waiting wooly socks and stepped into his slippers. Rolling up his sleeves, he went in search of his Blutbad Consort.   
  
He found Monroe in the living room, flicking through records. He approved, though, of the soft Baroque music flowing out of the stereo's speakers.   
  
"What you have on is nice." He spoke softly, but Monroe still startled.   
  
"I...thanks. Do you want to sit? I made tea?"   
  
"Thank you." Renard sat and let Monroe pull a side table up to him. He set a sturdy mug of tea and a plate of sandwiches on the table before sitting at the other end of the sofa.   
  
Renard picked up the plate and poked at the sandwich.  
  
"It's aged cheddar and homemade vegetarian bacon on also homemade multi-grain." Monroe sounded a little huffy as he pulled Renard's feet up into his lap. "Honestly, you're as bad as Nick."  
  
Renard didn't dignify that with a response, just nibbled at the sandwich. Surprisingly, the vegan bacon wasn't bad, but Monroe made it. He'd yet to turn out a bad or even just mediocre meal.   
  
"Philistines," Monroe muttered darkly and removed Renard's socks.   
  
Renard took a bite and nearly moaned in pleasure. Delicious. Monroe's clever, clever fingers digging into the knot in his instep as he ate simply upped the hedonism of the moment. Taking multiple Consorts was one of his better ideas. Probably ever. Two of them at least were guaranteed not to be troublesome.   
  
"Did you use French mustard?" he asked, taking a sip of a deeply smoky Lapsang Souchong.   
  
"Mmm hmm, and some chopped shallots." Monroe answered absently as he smoothed minty cream over Renard's foot.   
  
"It's delicious; I didn't get lunch today." Renard admitted and then quailed (but only a little) at the ferocious Look Monroe shot him. Which confirmed why Nick generally behaved himself.   
  
"Do I need to start sending lunch with you, too?" the Blutbad asked sternly as he replaced the first sock. "I have another lunchbox."  
  
"I was running all day." He'd be damned if he brought a lunchbox to work; Nick's had Superman on it.   
  
"Hmm." Monroe's Look at that was so old-fashioned it practically wore a crinoline.   
  
"I don't regularly skip meals, unlike Nick." Renard answered crisply. "I promise."  
  
Monroe switched to Renard's other foot.   
  
"Well, if you  _promise_ ," he snarked.   
  
"I managed to get tickets to the Philharmonic with Yo Yo Ma if you'd like to go?" Renard changed the topic, quickly. He'd heard Monroe's rants on not eating properly before.   
  
Monroe looked up, sharply.   
  
"How? Those were sold out five minutes after they went on sale. I tried to get a couple."  
  
Renard just gave him an amused look and started in on the other sandwiches. There were still  _some_  perks to being a Prince. The sandwich being one. It was the same homemade multi-grain with the amazing French mustard and thinly sliced Tofurky with a homemade avocado spread. He thought the cheese was smoked Provolone. He could, possibly, be persuaded to take a packed lunch.   
  
"The tickets are mostly a thank you."  
  
Monroe looked confused.   
  
"Not one of us is quite sure how we ever managed without you. I'm not entirely sure how Juliette kept Nick alive, honestly."  
  
Monroe's confusion turned to embarrassed pride.   
  
"I...umm...thank you." No one had ever been interested in doing things like that for him.   
  
"Good. I'll plan." Finished with his sandwich, Renard cast an interested eye at the rest of tea on the coffee table. Monroe had a way with the sorts of baked goods his nanny had liked.   
  
"There's madeleines, and shortbread, and a lemon tea-cake." As he explained, Monroe wiped his hands and made a plate with a bit of everything. He topped up the tea, too.   
  
"Thank you," Renard smiled.   
  
"It sounds like it was a rough week?" Monroe finished smoothing the mint cream over Renard's foot and eased his sock back on.  
  
"It was long and..."   
  
"Yeah, and. No news tonight. Umm...you are staying?"  
  
"Will...do you think Nick will mind?" The first spanking was always the hardest.   
  
"We'll all be pissed if you go back to that condo; I'll send Juliette after you. And anyway, I'm making vegetarian cassoulet and I got baguette from that café near the Spice Shop." Monroe tempted. "And there's vegetarian onion soup."  
  
"Well, if there's onion soup, then how can I leave?" Renard smiled. "You're spoiling me."  
  
Monroe huffed out a breath.   
  
"You're impossible, you know. It's nice to have people to take care of again." And it gave him something concrete to do when they were out and he was worried.   
  
"Mmm..." Renard took a chance and pulled until Monroe leaned against him.   
  
He knew that the Blutbad was more used to holding people than being held. It was a little tight, but they both fit on the sofa. Slowly, Monroe relaxed against him.   
  
"That's better," he ghosted his hand down Monroe's back.   
  
Monroe turned his face to Renard's neck and sniffed deeply. The scent of him, like those of Nick and Juliette, spoke of home. Renard also smelled of Alpha and of safety, thought that was tinged with exhaustion and stress and a little bit of sad tonight. Monroe nuzzled him gently and pressed a kiss to his neck. Renard let out a long breath.  
  
"I should get dinner going," Monroe murmured after a few minutes.   
  
"You should stay here for a while." Renard corrected. "We can be European and eat later."  
  
"Don't you and Nick have to - "  
  
"I gave us both a four day weekend. HR has been making noises at me about his overtime again. And maybe mine, too. He's been running himself ragged, anyway."  
  
"Like you haven't." Monroe sniffed; he didn't like smelling the exhaustion or stress or sad on his Alpha. "You're allowed to not like spanking him, you know. Unless it's for fun."  
  
Renard just wrapped his arms more tightly around Monroe.   
  
"And you're allowed to be tired, too." Monroe continued.   
  
Renard snorted.   
  
"You two had better relax this weekend," Monroe poked Renard in the chest.   
  
"Are you bossing your Alpha, Blutbad?" Renard captured the poking finger.   
  
"Someone has to, or you'll waste away. With ulcers."  
  
"I'm here, and I'm okay. Nick is sleeping safely upstairs with well-deserved sore ass, and Juliette will be home soon. Hank and Rosalee are both at home where they belong, and safe." Renard soothed.   
  
"I'm not having a 'my pack was hurt' freak-out." Monroe grumbled.   
  
"Mmm hmm." Renard kept rubbing a hand up and down Monroe's back.   
  
Monroe huffed at the man's refusal to engage, but quieted. Surrounded by the scent of his Alpha, and the sound of the man's heartbeat, he slipped into a doze.   
  
Renard allowed himself a satisfied smirk: two Consorts taken care of how they needed to be. Maybe he'd see about a massage for Juliette after she got home. Watching Nick work out the kinks in her back was...well, they were both so pretty. On that thought, he let himself slip into a nap as well. He figured he probably deserved it.

 


	3. A Quiet Evening In

Sean watched Nick sleep for a moment and enjoyed the peaceful look on his Consort's face. Nick was generally an active sleeper, unless pinned under Monroe or himself, when he slept at all. He perched on the edge of the sofa and brushed his fingers over Nick's cheek.   
  
"Mmmm, Sean," Nick murmured sleepily. He always knew which partner it was.   
  
"Open your eyes for me, Nick." Sean coaxed.   
  
Nick's eyes fluttered open as he pulled up to his knees.   
  
"There's my boy." Sean cupped his cheek, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone. "Good nap?"  
  
Nick nodded, and, sleepily uninhibited, curled himself into Sean's lap. Sean tucked Nick's head under his chin and wrapped strong arms around him. Nick hummed in contentment.   
  
"We need to go down and have dinner soon." Sean kept his voice level, but Nick still stiffened. He could feel his boy's skin heating in an embarrassed flush against his neck.   
  
"I could just go back to sleep?" Nick muttered.   
  
Sean smiled into Nick's hair.   
  
"Mm-hmm, but we don't do that, do we?"  
  
"No," Nick squirmed. "It's just..."  
  
"No one will say anything to embarrass you, you know that." Sean soothed.   
  
"But I know, and..."  
  
"If you're going to work yourself up like this, I could just spank you again now and save us the fight later?" Sean interrupted mildly and patted Nick's backside in warning.   
  
Nick's outraged squawk had him chuckling.   
  
"I could just come down and eat dinner, instead?" Nick offered.   
  
"That's a much better idea. I'm heading down now. Why don't you wash up and come down when you're ready?" Sean deposited Nick on his feet, kissed him, and crossed to the stairs. "Oh, and Nick?"  
  
"Mmm?" Nick was already on his way to the powder room.   
  
"Don't worry about changing; you're going to bed early tonight."   
  
Nick's outraged spluttering chased him downstairs.   
  
When Nick crept into the kitchen about fifteen minutes later, there was no sign of Prince or Blutbad, just Juliette holding out a celery stick.   
  
"Monroe did crudité."   
  
Nick managed a smile for her and crossed to lean against the counter with her. He snagged some snow peas from the plate on the island so he could have something to nibble on. Juliette managed a full five minutes before she giggled,  
  
"Freak acetylene torch accident?"  
  
Nick felt himself blush, even as his lips quirked into a grin.   
  
"Hindbrain panic?"  
  
"Mmm-hmm," Juliette stole some of his peas.   
  
"Hey!" Nick protested, grinning. "Get your own!"   
  
"You're really okay?" Juliette pulled Nick into her arms and pressed a kiss to his lips. "No burns?"   
  
"No burns. Sean put my jacket out." Nick kissed her temple. "I'm fine, really."  
  
"Where was Hank?"  
  
"He was evacuating people." Nick squirmed a little. All his partners had Views on his habit of going it alone.   
  
"Oh, baby," Juliette kissed him again. "I'm glad you're okay. I can't believe you tried..."  
  
"While smoldering, you can't forget that part." Sean put in, entering the kitchen behind Monroe.   
  
Monroe pulled both Nick and Juliette into his arms.   
  
"I'm not thinking about that," he let both cling for a minute. "I'm thinking that everyone needs to get into the dining room."   
  
Even with the mild tone, everyone moved. No one, not even Sean, crossed Monroe when it came to meal times. Nick hesitated by his chair, not really wanting to sit. Sean gave him a quick kiss before taking his own seat, and Juliette gave him a sympathetic look. Monroe, though, just sat and tugged Nick down into his lap.   
  
"You'll just pick, otherwise." Monroe seemed unfazed by the idea of dinner with a Grimm in his lap. "It was a rough week."   
  
Nick couldn't argue with that. Monroe's lap wasn't a bad place to be, especially since he could squirm around and take all the weight off his butt. Monroe skimmed a hand down his back, soothing the last of his frazzled nerves. As the four began dinner, the usual sense of peace that pervaded the house fell over their home again. With quiet conversation (and a lot of teasing about acetylene torches on Sean's part) all became well. 

 


End file.
